


a stop on our way to somewhere new

by SearchingforSerendipity



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fatherhood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 10:53:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8010880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SearchingforSerendipity/pseuds/SearchingforSerendipity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But there were no more screams. He blinked in surprise and checked to be certain he hadn't been rendered deaf. The whole bus seemed breathless, dozens of eyes locked in anticipation for Shireen's encore.</p><p>On the other end of her smile was a man, two chair in front of them. Not remarkable in the least, but for the way his smile returned to his screaming toddler to a happy mood.</p><p>"What did you do?" Stannis asked brusquely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a stop on our way to somewhere new

**Author's Note:**

> a 'im on the bus and my 2-year-old won’t stop crying, except you just smiled at them and they did' modern AU I've had in my files for ages and only got around to posting. Enjoy.

 

 

 

It was all Renly's fault, Stannis thought determinedly while pointedly ignoring the other passenger's looks.

If Renly hadn't crashed the car he had 'borrowed' while on some pretentious vineyard trip with the Tyrells he wouldn't need to take the bus and Shireen wouldn't be wailing on the way to kindergarten. She was usually such a quiet baby, but had apparently inherited his dislike of small crowded places, and unlike him could actually get away with wailing her displeasure at the world. He was sincerely jealous. 

"Papa, Papa, Paaapaa!"

He shushed her, trying to find a more comfortable way to hold her. It didn't matter: no position was comfortable enough, reprehensions only made her cry harder and even the clanging of the Patchface the teddy's unnerving bells didn't help. He had never given much credit to those parents that fretted endlessly over their children, but now, eight months after the infection scare that had left Shireen marked for life and effectively turned her parents marriage to rubble, he though he understood their worry.

He also understood how much he _loved_ silence. Sadly there was little of it to be found at the moment. 

Shireen fell silent for a short, blessed moment. It was the interlude between breaths, and as before he stayed quiet and still in the hopes this would be the last bout of crying, taking the chance to clean her wet nose and flushed cheeks.

He looked down in disgust at the mess of tears and toddler snot that had once been in disgust. The headache he had been nursing since he woke up pounded harder he tried to remember if he had spare clothes on the office. It wouldn't matter in any case: the moment he entered Baratheon and Inc like that Robert would have munition for this months share of mocking. He readied himself for it, and another round of crying.

But there were no more screams. He blinked in surprise and checked to be certain his ears weren't deceiving and he hadn't been rendered deaf. The whole bus seemed breathless, dozens of eyes locked in anticipation for Shireen's encore. The artist herself was riveted, rosebud mouth opened in a gummy smile.

On the other end of her smile was a man, two chair in front of them. Not remarkable in the least, but for the way his smile returned to his screaming toddler to a happy mood.

"What did you do?" Stannis asked brusquely. The man's smile wavered for a moment but thankfully he had the good sense not to look away from Shireen. "She has been crying for nearly an hour" He probably sounded accusing but could not bring himself to care. This man, a stranger, had managed to calm Shireen on a fit worse than the first time Selyse took her to stay over at their--his house.

The man shrugged. "I have five boys, it's second nature by now. How old is she?"

"Sixteen months." Most people had stopped gawking by then, turning back to their phones and books. Shireen giggled against his tie when the man wiggled his fingers at her. His other hand, he noticed, was missing its fingertips under the glove.

"Her teething stopped in June, so it doesn't justify this tantrum." Nor the sudden interest on this man. Was two years old too young to understand the concept of stranger danger?

"My son Maric was the same at that age. Too much noise for his taste made him cranky. It still does, to be honest." At least he didn't speak in that condescending babying voice Stannis detested. "I'm Davos," he said, like it was perfectly normal to start talking with stranger on the bus after charming their toddlers.

"Stannis Baratheon. This is Shireen." A bump on the road jostled the seats. Shireen wined, eyes welling, threatening another cry. Davos nodded towards the empty seat in front of them.

"May I?"

Stannis hesitated before acquiescing. Davos changed seats quickly, placating Shireen with ease born of practice. There was something warm in his eyes, longing and far away. "My youngest is almost three. I visit every weekend but Devan just keeps growing," he confided.

Stannis nodded, not knowing how to answer. He loathed small talk for itself as much as for the skills he lacked in it, and it had been years since anyone had been stupid enough or brace enough to try it on him. His brother reliably informed him that his resting face was unpleasant. They didn't seem to understand that he had no use for trying to be pleasant.

It unbalanced him, though, the way a stranger gave voice to his own thoughts easy as breathing. Only it is Selyse who rarely sees Shireen, longer gaps between a visits every time, and he has found himself almost dialing his lawyers number more and more often.

Davos looked at him keenly but doesn't press. He asked if they take the bus often instead. "I've been taking this bus for years and haven't noticed you before. And to be honest, you don't really look like a bus commuter." He added with a grin. Stannis frowned, but it doesn't seem insulting.

"My idiot brother bashed my car against a tree on some foolish trip with his hippy friends." Bloody Tyrells. As if it wasn't enough that their stock exchange had ruined his internship years, they got their hooks on Renly too.

They spoke some more, of Davos's children, living with their mother two-thirds of the time, about his job with the Coastal Guard and other little things, things Stannis listens to and is not condemned for not sharing the same amount with the same ease.

Shireen was a pleasant weigh leaning on him. The discomfort had exhausted her, and she blinked long blinks, once, twice, before burrowing in his arms and evening her breaths. Davos moved carefully beside him, and he noticed then that she had kept a baby fist wrapped around a lone thumb. She slept.

They do not speak. It was not a chore, this silence, and it seemed to him the bus-hum was perhaps less grating, the wheels sturdier under the metal. He realized with a start the pain in his head had lessened to a something more bearable.

Davos looked at the window, smiled when their glances meet in the plastic glass, and Stannis turned to his daughter and found his strange peace found mirrored in her unfurled brows. His shoulders relaxed without him noticing. 

Davos leaves four stops after, near the docks. Little hands leave grubby prints on the windows and Shireen fusses when his silhouette becomes smaller and smaller. Stannis griped his phone, now featuring a newly acquired number and a promise for meeting tomorrow again, and perhaps a play date for the children, one more wouldn't hurt after all.

Stannis made no promises, but he thought about it. He thought about the bus ride all though the day, while filing reports and reading stats and feeding Shireen a soft food dinner. Robert didn't offer him the use of a company car but neither did he press as much as he could have.

He closed his laptop with a growl after another quarter of an hour lost on stray, fruitless thoughts. He had lost his focus while sending an email to the warehouse, wondering if there was any movement in the river today and how did a coastal guard even lose his fingertips.

'This is the height of foolishness' he tells himself white putting on his pajama. 'You don't know the man. Tomorrow you'll take the bus and if he's not there it's because he's a clearly not fit to be around Shireen. And if he is there you do as you did today, and nothing else.'

It's a very sensible plan. It doesn't help his sleep any.

It rained all through the night and into the early morning. Stannis dreamt of half-formed shapes, stark black cloth on against a bruised sky and fading blues that went on forever. He scoffs to himself before making his coffe especially strong while Shireen kicks up her rain boots and watches Telletubies reruns.

He had almost convinced himself there was no need to hurry to the station when the bus doors open and Davos waves at them. His backpack was placed very conspicuously all over the closest seat.

Stannis frowned. "I do not think that is legal."

"You have child priority, I'm only protecting your rights." Davos pointed out with a mischievous grin. He relented, watching as Shireen babbled happily at her new friend.

"Good morning Princess. Did you sleep well?" He asked. Shireen nodded seriously, " Yes , thank you." Then she bopped his nose with her fist and burst into giggles.

Dr. Martell told him it was not uncommon for children from split homes to take longer to communicate clearly, and Shireen was certainly shy, but Stannis doubted Davos realized how quickly she had warmed up to him. Not even old Cressen usually received such a warm welcome.

Maybe it was bound to be a disaster. The car would come back from the garage sometime next week. The bus was still terribly noisy and did nothing good to his blood pressure, amiable seat companions. There was nothing sensible about this, except that when Davos looked up from waving Patchface around Shireen he smiled at Stannis easily, warmly.

Well, then. Perhaps the morning commute wouldn't be such a trial after all.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
